Authors: Theresa Meyers
Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Historical, #Fantasy, #Romance, #Paranormal
The Slayer (20 page)
Winn tried to turn his attention back to his meal. The meat was flavorful and tender, the bread coarse against his tongue, but filling, and the wine sweet and strong enough to make him relax, giving everything about him a softer focus. It wasn't the whiskey Ames served down at the Golden Goose, but it was damn fine. But all of itâthe food, the wine, the companyâcouldn't keep him from turning over and over in his mind the cryptic message Mama Zinka had given him.
It was bad enough to be stuck this far from home without his brothers or another soul he could trust. The contessa was the closest thing he had to an ally in these strange lands.
He leaned in, making it appear to anyone else watching them that he was whispering something sweet and seductive in her ear. “How long do we have to do this before we can slip away?” he asked softly.
She shivered, and Winn was instantly aware of the change in the texture of her skin as it contracted. “Anxious to get to Paris?” she teased.
“We're measuring our progress in hours, not days or weeks. We need to find the piece of the Book.”
She nodded and pulled back, locking her gaze with his. It had to be getting close to midnight. “We should wait until morning. Until we have daylight, this is the safest place we'll find in the woods until we reach the castle. Count Vernay's escort for us must have gone to the site of the airship wreckage and lost our trail.”
During the dinner of roast venison and root vegetables, Mama Zinka had fallen asleep. She slumped against Winn's shoulder, snoring none too softly, but no one seemed to take notice, as if this were perfectly normal.
Boris, the gypsy who'd first found them, approached the rough table where they sat. He nodded toward a small wagon that stood apart from the others. “Mama Zinka said you should have her second wagon for the night.”
Alexa smiled politely. “We are most honored,” she said smoothly, dipping her head lightly in a small nod. No one could say Winn was a slow learner. From the earlier kick in the shin, he'd deduced that one didn't refuse gypsy hospitality.
Boris waved them to follow him. They walked across the camp to the little wagon painted a vivid red. It was a bit smaller than the others, nearly the size of a buckboard back home.
Unless Mama Zinka's second wagon was as spacious as her first, Winchester was fairly certain there was only going to be room enough for one bed. He flicked his gaze toward the contessa. Perhaps he ought to offer to sleep underneath the wagon. He'd done far worse when out hunting with his pa than sleep on the hard ground for a night.
“I'll just stay out here,” he muttered.
The contessa speared him with a look that brooked no argument. “The wagon will be fine for
both of us
,” she insisted. Boris looked from one of them to the other, his expression puzzled, then shook his blue-scarfed head.
both of us
,” she insisted. Boris looked from one of them to the other, his expression puzzled, then shook his blue-scarfed head.
Winn waited until the stout man was out of earshot before he spoke again. “I'm not certain me and you both being in that little wagon is the best idea, Tessa.”
“You don't have to think. You just have to do it.”
“Give me one good reason why.”
“How about the only reason these people helped us is because they believed you and I were together. These people are superstitious. A woman alone in the woods would have been automatically suspected of being Darkin. If they discovered I was a vampire alone, they would have celebrated my passing, not revived me. Not to mention that there's more than one of the men who was eyeing me with speculation through dinner.”
Winn had noticed. And just thinking about it made his blood boil. If men had eyed a proper woman like that back in America, her brothers and father would have had something to say about it, most likely from the end of a shotgun.
“I saw them.”
“Then you understand why the safest thing is for us to spend the next few hours in this wagon
together
.”
together
.”
He wasn't at all certain of the safety of it. Every moment he spent with her, she wormed her way a little deeper under his skin. Hell, he was beginning to enjoy being around her.
There'd been powerful little female company around their home growing up once Ma had died, and even less once he was out on the road hunting. Pa had said any woman paired up with a Hunter was bound to meet a miserable end.
“I hadn't realized how badly you loathed the idea,” she said tartly. She'd mistaken his silence for dislike.
“It ain't that.”
“Then what is it?” she demanded, her mouth firming into a hard little pout.
He stepped closer, putting his hand on the wagon behind her. His chest was close enough to her that he couldn't even feel a current of air slip between them. She inhaled sharply and stared up at him, both defiant and glorious. Winn let his mouth curve up into one of those legendary, devastating Jackson smiles his ma had passed down to each of her boys.
“You know if we go in there together, you aren't going to be able to keep your hands off me.”
Chapter 16
Alexa gave an outraged gasp at Winchester's audacity and firmly fisted her hands at her sides to keep from slapping him. She swore silently to herself in Russian, Hungarian, and French. He was as arrogant as any male vampire. “You, sir, overestimate the power of your charms.”
The light of challenge ignited in his eyes as he leaned in farther, the scent of male and leather invading her space and teasing her excellent preternatural sense of smell.
“Oh, I highly doubt that,” he said in a soft rumble that set off sparks along her nerves and tightened the coil of awareness spiraling through her yet another notch, perhaps two. The intensity of his focus on her, like a hungry animal sensing its prey, made Alexa squirm. Then he came closer.
The firm ridge of his sensual mouth skimmed over her cheek and below the lobe of her ear, the bristles of his beard lightly abrading her skin, making it even more sensitive.
She could deny it all she wanted, but the animal magnetism of Winchester Jackson was far more addictive than all the power, prestige, and wealth of the vampire nobility she'd been surrounded by her entire life.
Alexa couldn't seem to stop herself, against her better judgment. The warm touch of his mouth as he nibbled and kissed along the column of her neck sent ripples of desire coursing through her, making the ichor beneath her skin flow like heated honey. And when he came back up, his mouth at her cheek, she turned and deliberately held them a whisper away from a kiss. “Maybe you just can't resist me,” she whispered, her lips brushing enticingly against his.
Winchester growled, the sound of it vibrating straight through her. He was lethal animal magnetism, and she was doomed. He crushed his mouth to hers in a kiss that demanded everything of her. Like a forest fire it roared through her, all heat and intensity, and left nothing but fragile ash and smoldering coals behind. The slick sensual slide of his tongue tasting her made her recall exactly what a heartbeat felt like; the sensation moved through every cell of her body like one gigantic pulse, beating from the very center of her being.
It had been a long, long time since she'd responded to a man with such intensity. His hands slid possessively down her spine, and pulled her flush up against the hard planes of his chest. Alexa clung to him, her every sense heightened. The pinpoints of starlight between the fragrant evergreen trees seemed brighter. She could hear the crackle of the fire in the glade nearby and the rush of his hot blood pumping hard and fast through his veins. Becoming bold, she rocked her hips against the growing ridge pressed against her belly.
He broke their kiss just long enough to nip at the ridge of her collarbone. A zing of electric spark ran from the spot his mouth claimed and seared straight to the tips of her breasts, making them ache against the confines of her corset. Alexa could no longer hold back the fangs that pulsed and throbbed just above her normal teeth and let them release with a slight moan.
He'd been taking a risk right from the start being around her. Now Winn knew without a doubt he was in uncharted territory. It was mattering less and less to his ramped-up libido that she was a vampire. He didn't even give a damn about kissing her with her fangs out. The dividing line between what was right and what was easy was getting blurry.
His fingers dug deeper into her hips, making the dress a damn nuisance. Every fiber of his being seemed to hum and burn with an intensity he'd never experienced before. She was womanly soft beneath his hands, and her hips cradled him to perfection. If the little wagon had been a temptation before, it was deadly serious now. Just based on the silky texture and fragrance of the skin in the soft spot at the nape of her neck, he could imagine exactly how smooth and sexy the other dips and hollows of her lush body might be.
But the insistent, nagging little voice in the back of his head demanding that he stop and think about what he was doing sounded an awful lot like his pa, and that was damn hard to ignore completely, even if his hands were full of willing female.
Walk away from her, boy. She's nothing but trouble, even wrapped in a pretty package.
Walk away from her, boy. She's nothing but trouble, even wrapped in a pretty package.
And if that weren't enough to stop him cold, his ma's voice made the point.
You don't have anything to offer a woman like this.
You don't have anything to offer a woman like this.
Winchester sobered up quick as a preacher on Sunday and pulled away from Alexa's drugging kiss. God help him, but the woman had lips like laudanum. She could wipe every thought from his mind, every good intention, and years of training, with just a touch, and leave him in a sensual fog that dulled his senses and blunted his reflexes.
He pulled back and looked down into her face. Her eyes, hazy with desire, were half shuttered behind a fringe of sable lashes. Damn, she was beautiful. An image of her waking up beside him, her hair dark spirals across the pillow, tugged at his gut and made him ache for just one more taste. The flavor of her, sweet and potent, was still on his tongue.
He was going to hate himself for this later, but it had to be done. “That convincing enough for the locals?” he asked smoothly, not betraying a hint of the inner turmoil she brought out in him.
The seductive softness in her eyes instantly hardened, making him feel instantly like a cad. “Very.” She turned away stiffly and lifted the hem of her gown.
Winn tried, and failed miserably, not to notice the natural movement of her hips and the curve of her spine as she climbed into the little red wagon. Saints preserve him, he still wanted her with a carnal longing that made no logical sense. This was getting complicated, right quick.
She's just a means to recover the Book; remember that, boy.
Winn blew out a harsh breath and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. He might as well accept that he wasn't going to get any sleep. Staying in the confined little wagon with her and a warm bed was going to be torture, and he was already pained enough as it was.
Winn blew out a harsh breath and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. He might as well accept that he wasn't going to get any sleep. Staying in the confined little wagon with her and a warm bed was going to be torture, and he was already pained enough as it was.
He'd barely climbed into the close quarters of the little red gypsy wagon and shut the door when all hell broke loose in the camp. The screams of men and women caused the hairs on Winn's scalp to prick. He spun around, one hand on his gun, the other on the ornate door handle.
“Don't!” The contessa jumped up from the edge of the bed. “The werewolves have found us! How?”
“They're goddamn persistent. That's hâ” He spun around aiming his pistol as a noise in the back of the room alerted him to the presence of someone breeching the small wagon. His finger tensed on the trigger as a panel in the wall opened. “What theâ”
Boris peered in at them. “Out this way! Quickly!”
Winn all but shoved the contessa through the opening into Boris's waiting arms, then tried to pull himself through, only to find the crossbow wouldn't fit strapped to his back. The acrid stench of burning hair and flesh was accompanied by a cacophony of chaos. Guttural screams cut off into gurgling; the tear of rending fabric and the pop and crack of wood and bone made his stomach twist into a hard, uncomfortable knot. He yanked the bow off, scrambled through the opening, and pulled the crossbow to him.
Instinct took over, and he turned to go back and defend those being attacked by the werewolves. He wouldn't be much against a pack of grizzly-sized wolves in a rabid frenzy, but it might slow them down enough for the contessa and a few others to escape. With one glance he saw more than he ever wanted to.
Broken bodies torn in half, wolves stripping the flesh off of the dead, the poor, sightless eyes of Mama Zinka as she lay limp in a crumpled heap at the base of her wagon. Fury caused his muscles to spasm in his arms and face.
Boris grabbed his arm with a punishing grip to stay him. Winn thought it odd he wasn't rushing to help his people, but then maybe that was the sacrifice he'd been instructed to make.
“It's too late. There are too many of them. Nothing we can do. Run!” Boris urged. He darted off into the woods.
There was no time to think, only to act. If he didn't get ahold of the piece of the Book of Legend, that grisly sight would become the norm rather than exception as the Darkin were encouraged to scour humanity from the face of the earth. He gently pushed Alexa ahead of him, and they followed.
A heavy mist clung to the ground, making it nearly impossible to see where they were going. Winn kept his focus locked on Boris and the contessa, making sure the pair stayed ahead of him so he could defend them against whatever might come at them from behind.
After an hour the trees finally grew thinner, allowing the intermittent moonlight to turn the drifting mist opaque. Their dark trunks became fewer and more spread apart, then the animal path they followed opened up into the edge of a crumbling church graveyard. The headstones teetered and slanted, having sunk with age and neglect. A stone angel dark with age had been weathered so black tears seemed to streak its cheeks. The church itself was no more than a moldering heap of crumbled stone.
The chilly night air caused his labored breath to cloud. He stayed close on Alexa's heels, relying on her far superior vampire eyesight in the dark of the night as they pushed forward. In the far distance the screams and growls had stopped, replaced by sickening howls.
Winn berated himself for running. But it had been the right thing to do, hadn't it? He no longer trusted his instincts. Not after what had happened with the demon and his mother, and then a different demon and Colt. Between the two incidences he'd been convinced he wasn't cut out to be a Hunter, let alone to fulfill some prophecy.
Alexa's face was streaked with dirt, and there were small tears in her gown from the undergrowth and branches they'd run through. Her face was drawn and tight, a mixture of focus and fear.
Boris darted in between the headstones, not bothering to glance back to see if they followed. Winn listened for any indication the wolves were coming, but the night had become starkly silent, as if the woods themselves held their breath. A chorus of blood-chilling howls cut through the cold air and shrunk Winn's skin a whole size.
The gypsy came to an abrupt stop. “There!” he said, pointing at the ground. It was so damn dark Winn nearly fell in as his feet hit the edge of freshly turned earth.
Through the swirling mist, a freshly dug grave yawned. Six feet down, a large man lay inside a lidless casket. The musty smell of recently turned cemetery earth made Winn shudder with suppressed memories.
“Get in!” Boris yelled.
Winn glared at him. “That coffin is already occupied.”
“And you'll need your own if you don't get in now!”
Everything in Winn raged against the idea of going into that small, narrow space with nothing but walls of soil and a small patch of dark night sky.
Ever since he'd watched them lower his mother down into a grave, he'd been unable to stomach small, dark spaces. It should have been him in that casket, not her, and he always felt like the grim reaper, or worse yet a demon, was only a step or two behind him waiting to rectify the situation.
“I ain't getting in there. Those werewolves will be able to sniff me out.”
“Not over the stench of Yakov,” countered Boris. “Trust me. Even when he was alive you always could tell where he was and wanted to walk upwind of him. Now that he's dead, they won't be able to even tell you're there.”
The howling grew louder as the wolves tracked their path to the churchyard.
Winn's skin crawled with revulsion as he dug his hands into the earthen walls and slid down to the open coffin. He climbed in beside the corpse in the confining wooden box, but still sat up, unable to stomach the idea of being sealed in the coffin.
Alexa leaned over the edge of the grave. “Lie down and we'll cover you up.”
“What the hell are you going to do?”
“Evade and attack.”
“Then I'm coming back up there with you.”
“No! They want
you
.”
you
.”
Winn had thought the idea foul to begin with, but the sickly odor of decay and heavy dose of body odor that reeked of rotten cheese emitting from Yakov brought up the bile to the back of his throat. Winn had to cup his hand over his mouth to keep from vomiting. They could hear the breaking of brush as the howls grew louder.
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